


Demons of Regret

by Sourlander



Series: Unknown Limits [12]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Demons of Regret, F/M, First Order, Prison, Stormpilot, Unknown Limits, poefinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourlander/pseuds/Sourlander
Summary: Meelan Bendar has to serve time in prison for his crimes.Part of the Part of theUnknown Limitsseries. Sequel to"Home".





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraLynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraLynne/gifts).



> This is part of the Bendar Chronicles, a collection of short stories I wrote with the help of drawings by my friend AuroraLynne. She didn't know I was working on some of the stories in that book until recently, when she finally got my parcel. Anyway: happy belated birthday!!

** Demons of Regret **

 

The cup was standing precariously close to the edge of the small table, half of it already balancing on the fine line between keeping firmly to the desk and tipping over. He hadn’t even realized where he had put it after the end of his meagre meal, which had tasted like nothing. As usual.

            Six months. That was how long it had taken him to get to this point. To the point where he’d sit back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, staring at that miserable paper cup, waiting for it to topple to the ground just like the person who had put it there. Could Morap keep the cup from falling?

            Meelan thought long and hard about keeping the cup where it was, before knocking his fist on the table, willing the cup to stay where it was, but of course it fell to the floor, right into the waste bin, where he should have put it anyway. Just like his life. All of it had slipped away from him, running through his fingers like water. And he had let it happen, unable to put up a fight. He had known he’d get to this point eventually. Six months ago, when he had been taken prisoner by the New Republic, he had known that sooner or later, he’d be sitting in his cell, unable to think of anything else to do. The daily exercise and routine of interacting with other prisoners had kept him busy for a while, even if he wasn’t allowed to see anyone who had also been in his organisation. Most of them had been allowed to leave as long as they weren’t looked for by the Republic for any other crimes other than being a smuggler operating under Meelan’s rule. In short, everyone who hadn’t been part of the Order before this all had started was here and Meelan wasn’t too keen on talking to any of them anyway. There weren’t many to speak of as it was.

            All he knew about the people who had served under him was that he didn’t know anything. The news he received over the Holo Network in the small communal space he was allowed to be in for an hour each day, hadn’t told him anything about his people. Those men and women had been with him for the better part of seven years and to see all of this gone to waste felt bad enough, but there was something else. Something he had regretted from the very beginning ever since the moment he had decided to surrender. Of course regret was not the correct word for what he was going through. He couldn’t _regret_ what he couldn’t help. Surrender hadn’t been a decision. Not really. It had been either that or the death of his family. The latter would have been impossible, not when he had the chance to prevent it. In a way he should be grateful that the Republic hadn’t taken that away from him, or his children’s future away from them.

            Meelan closed his eyes, thinking of those three people he missed more than anything. Nataleeh. The one person in the entire galaxy who had supported him and his every decision from the start and had only stopped doing so, when he had asked her to leave him to save herself and the children. She had defied him. Argued long and hard until he had given in. She wouldn’t leave him and a small part of him had been grateful for it. She was the first woman he had ever loved and he was sure that whatever came next wouldn’t stop that being true. She was the mother of his children. Something far more important than their marriage was binding them together and yet Meelan felt separated from all of it. Not because he was so far away from them, it had been like this until their son had almost turned three years old. No, it was because he felt like he’d never be with them ever again. Maybe the odd day here and there, but nothing more. No family life for him. He wouldn’t see Morap grow into the man he was promising to become even now. Yes, Morap was sentimental and soft. Not fit to have his own command, but he was so much more. Pure in a way Meelan had never been. A painful tug at his heart reminded him of the times he had tried to make Morap see why they had to hold up the First Order’s ideals. Why he, his son, had to do it as well. Why Meelan had devoted his life to this cause, which was lost. A cause, which he had tried to uphold in a way, which looked like a parody to him now. Something doomed to fail. And for what? He hadn’t even seen his youngest child yet.

            Eyes burning with tears, Meelan wiped his cheeks of the treacherous liquid stealing away from under his eyelids, which came every time he thought of Nataleeh having to give birth without his support for a second time. And this time had been supposed to be different. He should have been there with her. They had waited for such a long time to try again. To have another child. They had waited until everything seemed save enough. Until they had felt like nothing could possibly knock them over. And then Meelan had failed them.

Where had Morap been? Had someone taken care of him? If so, who? How long had it taken Nataleeh and their baby to pull through? His lawyer, an arrogant, yet competent man born on Naboo had told him of his son’s birth. Yoann. The same name as Nataleeh’s father.

            Blinking, Meelan opened his eyes again to look out the small round window at the water surrounding the complex he was being held at in more or less complete isolation. Today, his sentence would be passed. He didn’t even try to pretend like he’d get away. True, he hadn’t committed any crimes the Republic could trace back to him. For a moment it had looked as if that officer he hadn’t much liked at all, the one with the tattoos on her neck, would speak up against him in court, but she had vanished, undoubtedly taken care of by his contacts in the Senate, whose reputations were depending on Meelan only being convicted for the abduction of Poe and Finn Dameron. His stomach lurched as he thought back to the hearing of the two men a couple of weeks ago. Back to the time the former Stormtrooper had spoken up about his experiences on the base. He had only been asked about those, not his time in the service of the First Order, because that had nothing to do with what Meelan was charged with here. And then…Dameron. Poe Dameron giving evidence against him and then being asked to tell the jury what he knew about Meelan. Seeing Dameron relive what had passed between them back when Dameron had been his victim and then the person Meelan had rescued from certain death. The arrogant lawyer had made it sound like Meelan had acted heroically. Betraying the Order to uphold his brother’s memory. This too hadn’t played a big role in the hearing, since it didn’t concern the alleged abduction, but Meelan had been surprised to see Dameron come forward as a character witness. An unwilling one, but still.

            In a way the lawyer had been right. Meelan had done it for his little brother, but not to defy the Order. He hadn’t said that though, sensing that Dameron’s testimony and the fact that Meelan hadn’t hurt either him or his husband in any way during their time on his base, might sway the jury in his favour. He’d know whether it had worked in a couple of hours. Then the first wait would be over and the next wait would begin. The wait for this all to be over. Either his life or this time in prison. Either way, he’d know what his future would hold.

            Meelan got up and started washing, after he had taken a look at the digital clock over the door of his small prison cell. He had been up for hours. Three in the morning was his usual time. The time, when sleep seemed impossible. When all his dreams were spent and the nightmares started. When the fears and the shadows started creeping up on him and the only thing capable of keeping them at bay was getting up and start reading one of the many books he had been allowed on the low tech datapad. The only thing the device on his desk was capable of, was opening text files and presenting them to him on a dingy screen. At least reading kept him occupied for a while. At least until his thoughts started drifting away to a place he’d never get back to. To that apartment back on his former base, where he had spent the happiest years of his life. The trial had shown him in a different light what the cost of that might have been. The persecutor had of course seen it fit to refer to the many lives lost on Birken Six, as they called the planet Meelan had worked with for such a long time. The judge had shut him up quickly however and Meelan had been inexplicably grateful for it. Up to this point he had never, not once, cared about what happened to the people who had been standing in the way of his goals and he still didn’t want to spend even a minute wasting his energy on such a futile attempt. There was nothing he could do to change that past anyway. Nothing at all.

            But still he wished he hadn’t drawn his family into this mess with him.

 

Breakfast was the usual dull affair in a mess hall filled with people and creatures he didn’t want to talk to. Usually, after meals, he’d be led to the gymnasium a couple of floors below, where he’d be allowed to use some of the equipment provided for the prisoners. This he hadn’t expected from the Republic. He hadn’t expected a gymnasium, more or less tasty meals, time to roam in the yard, or even be allowed to have contact with fellow prisoners or access to the news channel or books. Yes, the New Republic had taken him by surprise. He was kept away from his family, but he was allowed to talk to his fellow inmates. The Republic’s correctional facilities as much as their judiciary system weren’t as he had expected them to be. And still he resented them. The Republic itself and the people working for it. He couldn’t help himself, but he wasn’t even sure he wanted to try to change his attitude.

            As he handed back his tray to one of the kitchen staff, a violent looking Delphidian whose name Meelan had already forgotten, one of the guards waved at him to come over. Meelan threw the Delphidian another look, then walked over to the guard standing by the doorway.

            “Is it time already?” asked Meelan, looking at the clock again. He hadn’t been able to get down even one spoonful of cooked grain, because his eyes had wandered over to the clock every once in a while. He still had hours before the sentencing was to take place. Why he would be singled out from the other prisoners now, was a mystery to him. It was too early even for a meeting with his distasteful lawyer.

            “No,” the guard, a blonde, strong looking woman, who couldn’t possibly be even half human going by the shape of her sharp looking cheekbones, said and nodded towards the door. On the other side a dark skinned Twi’lek was waiting for him to move.

            Meelan didn’t even bother asking them what was going on. If he had learned one thing from his time here, it was never to ask the guards where they were taking him. He’d find out soon enough. Not that the Order had treated prisoners any different of course. At least in that respect the Republic and the Order resembled each other.

            They came to a halt in front of the door to the room in which Meelan and his lawyer had spent several hours discussing and strategizing his defence. Had the meeting with his lawyer been brought forward after all? Had the sentencing? Meelan felt his palms go wet with sweat and he wiped them on his trouser legs as inconspicuously as possible. But of course he had to be calm. He should be! The lawyer was good. One of the best! By now Meelan was fairly sure that his contact in the Senate had arranged for him to get this particular one, though of course he couldn’t know for sure. For a moment he was wondering whether or not it might not be his lawyer waiting behind the door or Orris Madmund, senator to Corouscant. The old fool had contacted him some years ago to arrange a business contract and this business had been profitable for the both of them. Until now. But still, Meelan doubted the senator would be foolish enough to actually show his face here today.

            He watched closely as one of the guards put his hand in front of the sensor by the door, unlocking it, and then, as the door opened, his breath caught in his chest.

            The guards were forgotten, as he stared at the woman sitting on a white metal chair right in front of him. Their eyes met straight away and Meelan was rooted to the spot as he watched her get up, the dark dress falling neatly in place as she stood up. She was smiling ever so slightly and the view twisted his guts. For a moment he felt like he had been hit over the head with a heavy metal object and he forced himself to breathe as an almost gentle push between the shoulder blades transported him over the threshold. His entire body seemed to have gone numb at the sight of her. It was as if his entire being had shifted slightly to the side. Like he was staring at the goings on in this small room as a mere observer. He only barely registered the door sliding shut behind him and then there was his boy walking towards him. How could he not have seen him yet?

            Meelan shook his head, suddenly ripped out of his reverie by his son, taller and his hair longer than he remembered, walking towards him, tears in his eyes.

            “Morap…” Meelan whispered hoarsely, opening his arms for his son and closing his eyes tight, as he felt those arms wrap themselves around his middle. And all of a sudden breathing was hard again. Opening his eyes impossible. He put his arms around his boy, this solid form of a person he hadn’t thought he’d see again, and then there was his wife. Her scent the same as it had always been, her slender arms around his neck and her lips on his, her tears hot on his cheek. He hadn’t held her in months. Hadn’t kissed her lips in forever. Hadn’t held her boy this close in such a long time. Not for a single moment had he forgotten what those things felt like, but the memory had been more painful to bear than he could have possibly imagined. Even now he felt like the world had shattered around them, just being allowed to be near them. He of all people!

            “I’m sorry,” was all he could croak, as he finally forced his eyes open and looked down at the top of Morap’s head pressed tightly against his chest. “I ruined everything…”

            Nataleeh shook her head, looking up at him and letting her fingers dance lightly on his neck. He could barely see her with the tears blurring his vision and his head buzzing with voices he didn’t even want to hear. Voices which came screaming down upon him out of nowhere and he couldn’t even make out their words. All he knew was that somehow those voices were his own. All of them. All of them telling him that he didn’t deserve this and he lowered his gaze to Morap again, who let go of him slowly, almost reluctantly.

            “We’re fine”, Morap assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

            These words didn’t comfort him. Far from it. It was as if Morap had lashed out at him with a simple sentence turned into a vicious weapon. They were fine. Despite everything they were fine. Without him.

            A light touch on his cheek made him flinch. Nataleeh’s face was so close again, her eyes so calm, yet sad. Her chaste kiss felt like an empty promise. “Why are they letting you near me?” The question came out of his mouth before he could hold it back. The implications of this visit made him shiver and it was as if he could already feel the noose around his neck.

            Nataleeh shook her head once more. “Your lawyer made it happen,” she said. The first words she had spoken to him since she had entered. “Don’t worry we-“ she cut herself off, before she could repeat what Morap had said. “We’re getting by. And so will you.” Her voice had grown stronger within an instant and Meelan was grateful for it. For her resolve. Her strength. She didn’t say any more, but took a step aside. Meelan’s hand was resting on Morap’s shoulder. There was so much to ask. So much to say. So much to find out. But when he saw the dark blue perambulator standing next to the table, all of those things seemed to be forgotten. He pressed his free hand to his lips, in case a sound he couldn’t control tried to escape them.

            “Nat…” he murmured, shaking his head and staring at the hood shielding the insides of the perambulator from view.

            “It’s fine…” Nataleeh answered, smiling again, and Morap took his hand in his. They were both strong, he realized. Stronger than him. Not only at this particular moment, but in general. He allowed for his son to pull him closer to the pram sitting there next to the table and he flinched away, as he saw something twitching inside.

            “That’s Yoann,” Morap declared, unmistakeable pride in his voice. He reached up to touch a well concealed button at the handle and the canopy slid away to reveal a baby, wrapped tightly in white fabric. Morap pulled him even closer to the pram, then let go of his hand to walk around it and look down at his little brother. Meelan couldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping child in front of him. The baby was his. His! And he hadn’t even realised it was here until this very moment.

“Don’t you want to hold him?” Nataleeh’s voice behind him sounded almost scared, but he was too transfixed staring down at the boy. Four months. Yoann had to be four months old by now. But he was still so tiny. Still so small. So fragile…

“I-“ Meelan cleared his throat, unsure whether or not he could actually trust his voice. “He…  he looks-“

“He’ll be fine.” Her hand was on his back, pushing him towards the pram and his son inside it.

“Where do you even live?”, he asked hoarsely, still unable to take his eyes off the child. The child who resembled Nataleeh more than him. The nose already seemed to be much more like hers than his and the chin…

Meelan swallowed.

“The Republic let us live in a small apartment for a while, but I found a job and we’re moving out next week.”

The words were like icy pinpricks to his heart and his hand shook as he put in on the table next to the pram to steady himself. They were getting on with their lives. Without him. He cursed himself silently. Of course they were. They had to. Because he was the reason their lives had gone the way they had. He had brought them into this situation. “I’m sorry…” he whispered again and he felt Nataleeh wrap her arms around him, holding him in place.

She didn’t say that it was alright. Didn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, because it was. No sweet lies to comfort him from her. And he hadn’t expected anything less.

Morap looked up at him, face mirroring his own and at the same time he looked almost as much like another boy he had known so many years ago. A boy who was determined to turn his life around and make everything better somehow. Yes, Morap was strong. And Meelan knew that he’d make it somehow. Of course he would. And he’d have his mother by his side to guide him.

“We’ll be able to come visit you more often now,” Nataleeh said behind him and Meelan took a deep breath, wondering how often this boy in front of him, who’d now be influenced by the Republic rather than him, would even want to come see him after he found out and finally realized what his father had done. Meelan had done his best to explain the reasoning behind it all and he felt deep inside that he had failed in that respect as well. One day, his son would loathe coming here. One day the Republic would have turned him over to their side. Not because Morap was weak minded, but because somehow the roots of the Republic’s ideals had already taken hold of him long before disaster had unfolded. Morap had questioned his methods long before this day and soon Meelan would lose him. He knew that he would and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He’d lose his son just like he had lost his brother.

But right now a smile was slowly but surely spreading over Morap’s face. What would he do now? Was he really sensitive to the Force? Had the Jedi already talked to him? There was so much to ask, but not nearly enough time for it all. Nataleeh squeezed him slightly and he felt her breath running through his hair like a promise.

“We’ll come here as often as possible,” Morap said with an encouraging smile. “I promise. And we’ll bring Yoann.” He smiled even wider and even threw in one of his infectious laughs like Meelan simply had to leap forward and buy it off him. “He doesn’t say much yet, but he’ll be here.”

Meelan finally managed a smile. “I can’t wait,” he said and as if he had asked her to, Nataleeh let go of him and he pulled up his sleeves. He couldn’t be with his family, but he could spend the time he was allowed to be near them as profitable as possible. Here in this empty, white room he’d be allowed to be close to them, if the Republic really would allow for him to have this. It was nothing. Not at all what he needed or wanted, but all he would get and he’d make the most of it for as long as they’d have him.

He slowly bent over the pram, looking into the face of a child he had let down already. He should have been there when he was born, but he had let something else get in the way and he’d never be able to forgive himself.

He still remembered how to do it. He still remembered how to lift a child out of its bed and the very feeling of this alien, yet familiar warmth and weight in his arms threatened to reduce him to a sobbing mess, as he slowly but surely picked up his youngest son, cradling him in his arms and studying the little face.

He wanted to say it again. Wanted to tell his son that he was sorry. Sorry that he couldn’t be there for him. Sorry that he had let him down even before he was born. Sorry that one day, Yoann too would have to hate him. But he didn’t. Not with Morap and Nataleeh standing there right next to him.

Meelan slumped back against the table, almost sitting on it and kept staring down at the child he was holding. A child he’d never get to know probably. Not before it was all too late. He was powerless. Absolutely powerless against the government holding him prisoner and the galaxy in general. He couldn’t even hold back the tears streaming down his face, as Yoann turned his head in his direction, cuddling against him as if Meelan’s arms were the safest place to be instead of the unsteady shelter they were at this very moment.

Nataleeh approached him again, wrapping an arm around his torso and putting her head on his shoulder, while Morap climbed on the table to wrap his arms around Meelan’s neck from behind. He knew exactly what they were trying to tell him. That they were there for him. That all would be well. But he knew that it wouldn’t. Not ever. Not really. He had managed to ruin their lives and soon his sons would hate him for who he was.


End file.
